


hypothetically yours

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Commissions [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Feelings, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. “Lay down. Don’t you eventhinkabout ruining those fucking stitches I gave you.”





	hypothetically yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [egotisticalee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/egotisticalee/gifts).



> For my friend Lee who commissioned me for a vigilante/superhero au with a first kiss. I was originally gonna do a darkjack piece but I know they really like danti, and danti fit a lot better with the "vigilante" portion rather than superhero.
> 
> This was a lot of fun! I know I've been saying that about all these commissions but this one was a treat. I really enjoyed fleshing Dark out to be this monolith of fuck-diddly, this monotonous being, but then being so overwhelmingly anxious and concerned. It came out in about a day--my fastest turn around time, tbh. I'm pleased with the result. 
> 
> More big projects to come! I've got a huge piece I'm working on that'll be out...eventually. I also have another filthy short I'm working on that I recently got reinspired for, so y'all can expect some smut in the future. 
> 
> That said, please enjoy!

Anti has about five seconds to mumble out, “ _Dark Dark Dark_ ” before everything goes black.

He doesn’t remember hitting the floor of Dark's apartment, but he was pretty sure he’d passed out from blood loss before he’d hit it, so he wouldn’t remember anyway. It had been a rather nasty stab to the gut, and Anti can’t remember the last time he’d bled so fucking much. 

So when he opens his eyes later, it’s...surprising. He really hadn’t expected to wake up from that. The familiar white ceiling greets him, and when Anti moves to sit up, shooting pain goes throughout his body.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” he hisses out, slapping a hand down on his abdomen, finding the area to be tightly wound with what appears to be gauze. His eyes search his surroundings, finding a familiar TV, laptop charging in the corner, everything neat and picked up, a single suit tie lying draped over the chair. On the nightstand is an array of medical supplies. 

Before Anti can fully process the information, or even clear the static from his brain, the door squeaks open, and in steps Dark, his dress shirt shoved up to his elbows, hair looking tousled and messy, and very, very pissed.

“Sit your ass back down,” he orders, voice cold, unforgiving. Anti’s actually never heard that voice before. “Lay down. Don’t you even _think_ about ruining those fucking stitches I gave you.” 

For Dark to use a single swear in a sentence is a big deal, but two? Jeez, he must be pissed. Anti does as he’s told, laying back against the pillows. Dark lets out a long, labored breath, almost pleased, but like he can’t quite relax. 

He licks his lips. Then, “What the _hell_ happened to you, Anti?”

Anti shrugs. “Oh, you know. Bears.” 

“Bears,” he replies flatly, slowly, like he can’t believe Anti had the _gall_ to give that as a response. “I should have left you to die.” 

“Might’ve been a better idea,” Anti points out. 

His companion scoffs, grabbing the chair from his desk in the corner of the room. Anti’s always thought he was kind of stupid for having a desk in his room and an office, but he’s in no mood to point out this peculiarity. He eases down into the seat, and now, getting a better look at him...Christ.

Dark looks exhausted. Dark looks like a hair’s breath away from death on a normal basis, but now he actually looks _terrible_ , like he hasn’t slept in a week and has been entirely subsisting on energy drinks and alcohol. His cheeks gaunt, eyes hollow, Anti actually feels...horrible. Because he has a feeling he’s the reason why Dark looks like this.

“You’ve been out, unconscious, for three days,” Dark murmurs, putting his worn face into his hands. “You came to _my_ home, gushing more blood than a fountain, saying _my_ name as though you'd forgotten your own. You fell, right there. I haven’t been able to get the stains out from the carpet. And I--I see your skin, peeled back, sliced open as though you were nothing more than cheap linen, and Anti, I--I am not a doctor, Anti. Everything I know is basic, rudimentary at best, and you--I thought you were going to die, Anti. Right here, in my bed, with your blood staining every surface, embedded into my hands.”

Anti swallows, closing his eyes. He rests a hand over the gauze, wound tight, changed day in and day out, no doubt. 

“You stupid boy,” Dark spits out, voice harsh, unkind. “You stupid _child_. I stitched you back together, and for _what_? So you could do it all again? So you could run back out into the fucking wilds and get stabbed again, and again, and again, to the point where I can’t save you? What good is your self-proclaimed justice if you’re _dead_?”

He gnaws on his lower lip. The worst thing about Dark is that he doesn’t...he isn’t yelling. His voice is soft, biting, with so much power and intensity behind it. It operates on the same vibration like a disappointed parent, if he cared about that. 

But it’s Dark. And much as he loathes to admit it, Dark’s feelings matter more than they should.

They call him a vigilante. Superhero is too nice of a word, too far removed from what he does. No, Anti does unspeakable things, killing people who deserve it, smearing people who have wronged lesser people. The law is beneath him. He makes his own way. This line of work doesn’t come without risks. 

Stabbing is one of them. Slicing is another. Near death experiences are part of the adventure, these days. 

Anti sucks in a deep breath. “Didn’t think it mattered that much. If I died.”

“How could it not matter?” a low, seething response. “How could it possibly not matter, Anti? Every time you walk out this door, I hold my breath, knowing it may be the last time I see you, knowing that when you leave my sight, I may never touch you again. How could it not matter, Anti, when the heart in my chest beats to the tune of your own?” 

Oh, hell. 

Dark withdraws, as though he’s spoken some egregious sin. He lets out a slow, even breath, reeling himself in.

“I can only fix you so much, Anti,” Dark murmurs, shaking his head. “I am not a doctor, as I’ve said. The stitches that I performed, you...you may need to see the hospital about it, for fear of infection. They are sloppy and imprecise at best. By god, Anti. You can’t...do this to me again. You can’t rush into my home, ask the impossible of me, and expect me to...to think it’s _fine_.” 

Anti watches him swallow, the bob in his throat hard, and uncomfortable. He’s never in all his years of knowing this bastard seen him like this. He’s always been no nonsense, a complete and utter monolith of strength. No emotion, no expression, other than irritation and bitterness. But this, this...display of something so raw, uncontrolled, untamed. It aches to his very core. 

“What happened,” Dark says again, not a question. 

He licks his lips. “I went to the abandoned corporate building. Meant to fuck it up a bit, send a message, show off how little it meant to the community. Didn’t expect gang activity in there. They had made the place their turf. We got into a bit of a tussle, one of ‘em held me down and cut me clean open. Cops scared them off. All I could think of was...getting back to you.” 

“A damn fool,” his companion murmurs, and for the first time, he reaches out, touching his arm gently. “A damn fool you are, Anti. How many times must you come close to death before you realize that the game you’re playing is rigged against you?”

With strained effort, Anti raises his hand, taking Dark’s wrist. It’s a light touch, but hard enough to where if Dark wanted to pull away, he’d have to give it some effort. He brushes his thumb along the callous skin, and for once, he has nothing to say. Nothing that could even remotely express how…

“You meant that?” he asks instead, when he feels bold enough to fill that silence. “About your heart.” 

The cloudiness of Dark’s eyes don’t get any clearer. Reaching out his other hand, he covers Anti’s cold fingers, bringing them to his lips. It’s a soft, kind gesture, more contact than kiss, but god, it does things to him that it shouldn’t.

“There are those in this world that wish you were gone,” his voice is low, a rumble. Frighteningly calm. “Those that would see you killed, collapsed in a pool of your own blood. And I...a world without you is a world I want no part of.” 

Of course it’s Dark. It’s always been Dark. It’s always been stupid, perfect, beautiful, graceful Dark. With his stupid edgy hair and his pale complexion and his too-pristine manner of dress. Everything in him, every time he held on, every time he struggled to stay alive, it’s always been Dark. The place he comes back to, when everything is said and done.

“Just for curiosity’s sake,” Anti hardly trusts his own voice anymore. “Would you…”

He pauses, uncertain of how he wants to phrase this. Those scarlet eyes wait patiently, as though he’d wait forever. Perhaps that’s what scares him the most.

“Just for curiosity’s sake,” he repeats, with a touch more strength than before, “would you kiss me, if I asked?”

There is hardly any hesitation. “Would you want me to?”

“I don’t think I’d ask,” Anti lowers his lashes, mustering all the gusto he can with a fucked up stab wound, “if I didn’t want you to.” 

There’s a ghost of smile on his lips then, somber and amused all at once. 

“I think so,” he says, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Hypothetically, then,” Anti continues, “would you, right now?”

“In a purely hypothetical situation,” Dark raises Anti’s hand to his cheek. His face, like the rest of him, is cold. “I imagine that I would.” 

Anti almost barks out a laugh. He might’ve, if he knew it wouldn’t hurt. Then, in a single breath, more of an exhale rather than words, “Will you?”

Dark makes no effort to move, makes no effort to let go or get closer, his skin nearly ethereal in the dim lighting. Maybe his eyes just got fucked up from hitting the ground so hard, but goddamn, despite how gaunt and tired and horribly fatigued this man appears, Anti’s never seen anything more beautiful. 

Rising from his seat, he lets go of Anti’s hand, and for a moment, a single moment, Anti’s heart seizes in his chest. His mind begins to run, planning for a backup, planning to joke his way out of this, because losing Dark means losing the only thing that keeps him grounded, and he can’t--

The thoughts don’t finish. Surprisingly warm lips cover his own, a welcome, soft and generous and utterly flawless. He raises his hand to cup the nape of Dark’s neck, pulling him down further, to get more of that contact, that energy, as though he’s the source of all his strength.

_Is he?_

It last an eternity, but also, just one second. Dark breaks the kiss, his normally frigid eyes full of something else, bursting at the seams. He closes them, clenching them shut for just a moment, before he rises from Anti’s side completely.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” he mumbles, after a long time. “You must be hungry.”

And just like that he’s gone, leaving Anti to the static in his mind, and the tingle on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me. Comments and kudos are always appreciated ❤
> 
> If you like what I do, please consider supporting me on [Ko-Fi!](https://ko-fi.com/A234MZ4)


End file.
